Back to December
by Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs
Summary: "It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine." Jibbs song-fic with song by Taylor Swift.


A/N: I give you…another song-fic. This song's music video premiered two days ago, and I really like it, especially the end. She leaves a letter in his pocket. Now who does that remind you of?

For wordswontstop. Ryleigh, I hope it lives up to expectations. Sorry it took so long! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS because DPB does, or the lyrics to this song, which are owned by Taylor Swift.

* * *

_I'm so glad you made time to see me  
How's life, tell me how's your family  
I haven't seen them in a while_

She didn't know why she was there.

Well, that was a lie. She did know why she was there, she just…she was surprised he'd agreed to it. It had been three years, after all.

The café was small, secluded. She sat with her cup of steaming coffee, running her thumb along the rim of the ceramic mug. She looked up when she heard the bell signaling an arrival, her heart picking up the pace when she saw the familiar silver hair and those piercing, guarded blue eyes.

It only took him a moment to find her; she watched the parade of emotions flash through his eyes. His movements were slow as he headed towards her, his footsteps almost hesitant as he reached the table.

He sank into the seat across from her, his fingers wrapping around the mug of coffee she'd ordered for him. His other hand tapped anxiously against the table, the random rhythm filling her ears.

Should she speak? Wait for him? Remain silent?

"Jen."

One word, and she was in over her head all over again. She looked up, falling into his deep blue depths and swallowing hard.

"Jethro," she returned quietly, shifting her feet under the table, her boots dragging slightly on the linoleum café floor. He remained silent, obviously waiting for her to continue. "How are you?"

"Fine," he answered almost curtly, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Your team?" she asked, quieter this time. He didn't want to be there, she could tell.

"Got a new member, from Baltimore. Anthony DiNozzo." he replied, clearing his throat roughly. "Pacci got his own team."

"Must be a good Team Leader." she said softly, tugging slightly on her scarf, loosening the pale green wool from around her neck. She watched Jethro swallow heavily and avert his gaze, and her chest split with pain.

_You've been good, busier then ever  
We small talk, work and the weather  
_

The conversation consisted of small talk; they talked about the recent snowstorm, a case he'd just closed, her new job as Assistant Director.

She skirted the issue of leaving, he skirted the issue of his third failed marriage. They talked about Ducky, about his mother, about Pacci and Burley and Decker.

She watched as he looked everywhere but her; he watched as she looked at the ground, the awkwardness sometimes too unbearable even for him.

She glanced out the window, watching the snowflakes gather on the window ledge.

_Your guard is up and I know why  
_

She looked at his shoulders, how tense the muscles were. She knew he had his guard up; he was wary, nervous; cautious.

And he had every right to be.

She'd hurt him, she knew. It wasn't like she hadn't hurt herself too. But in the process, she'd shredded his heart.

And she hated herself for it.

_'Cause the last time you saw me  
Is still burned in the back of your mind  
You gave me roses and I left them there to die_

She could see it, in his eyes. He was still seeing that plane on that cold mid-December morning, the sunshine filtering through the windows.

He was still seeing the tan leather coat that he'd given to her for Christmas the year before.

He was still reading the letter that she'd left in the pocket of his gift. He was still having his heart broken.

She knew he could see the roses he'd handed to her while waiting for the plane, the ones she'd left in the seat. They'd been wrapped in her coat, with the letter tucked in the pocket.

The beautiful yellow roses that had smelled so fresh, so perfect.

And she'd left them on that plane to die.

_So this is me swallowing my pride,  
Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night  
And I go back to December all the time_

"Jethro," she whispered, finally getting the courage to raise her gaze to meet his. He had one eyebrow raised in question, and she swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

His eyes widened, surprise filling the brilliant blue. His coffee mug was halfway to his mouth, but he froze, caught off guard. She pressed on, taking advantage of his silence.

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you  
Wishing that I'd realized what I had when you were mine  
I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright and  
I go back to December all the time  
_

"Everything I thought I'd get by leaving hasn't come. I thought I was doing the right thing, but that's the furthest thing from the truth. All I've done is miss you and wish I hadn't been so stupid," she said, shifting forward in her chair slightly, setting her mug down on the table. "I go back to that day all the time, wishing I could change it, make it right."

He remained quiet, his arms folded in front of his chest, his brow wrinkled as he concentrated. She bit her lip, waiting.

The silence was deafening.

_These days I haven't been sleeping  
Staying up playing back myself leaving _

Jenny hadn't had a good night's sleep since leaving. Her bed was lonely, cold, empty. There was no longer someone to hold her at night, to keep her warm and protected.

She spent her time replaying leaving; replaying the moment when she stepped off the plane, leaving the man she loved behind. She spent her time watching the plane take off.

Without her.

_When your birthday passed and I didn't call  
And I think about summer, all the beautiful times  
I watched you laughing from the passenger side,_

Jethro remembered when he realized it was her birthday, a few months after she'd left. As irrational and insane as it may seem, he'd wanted to call her. If it was to only hear her voice, that would have been enough. Yes, he'd been with Stephanie, and yes, he'd been bitter that she'd left him with only a letter for explanation, but he'd still wanted to wish her a happy birthday. If only to remind her of what she'd lost.

He thought about that summer often; driving through Europe, looking over at her as she laughed in the passenger side, her hair whipping out the window. The summer when he'd realized her loved her.

The feeling had scared him to no end; after Shannon's death and two failed marriages, could he ever really hope for love again? But, regardless of his past, it had happened.

_Realized I loved you in the fall  
And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind  
You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye  
_

Jenny had learned that she'd managed to fall in love with him that fall. It had been October, and they'd been in Paris, working a mission. They'd been walking hand in hand through the streets, and when he'd looked at her, she'd felt it, in the pit of her stomach.

And it had scared her more than she thought was possible.

The winter months had come, and she'd been given the opportunity to take a new assignment.

Without Jethro.

He'd given her all of his love. And in return, she'd turned away, running in the opposite direction as fast and as far as possible.

_So this is me swallowing my pride,  
Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night  
And I go back to December all the time_

"Are you going to say anything?" she asked finally, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she sat, feeling uncomfortable. He remained silent, as though carved in stone. She took a deep breath, lowering her gaze to the table, swallowing the tears.

She'd tried. She'd shoved aside her pride, offering him herself laid bare for him.

And he hadn't wanted it.

She wished she could go back to that December.

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you  
Wishing that I'd realized what I had when you were mine  
I'd go back to December, turn around and change my own mind and  
I go back to December all the time  
_

She wanted desperately for him to know how much he meant to her, and how much she regretted leaving. The freedom she thought that she'd get by leaving hadn't come.

All she'd learned with this fiasco was that she should have known what she had when he was hers.

She'd gone back to that December hundreds, thousands, possibly millions of times. She wished she could go back and change her own mind; to show herself just how much she was throwing away by leaving.

By breaking two hearts for the price of one.

_I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right _

Most people only saw the gruff, bastard-like side that he showed. But to her he'd shown the kind, caring side. The bastard-like qualities and tendencies had still been there, but they'd been overshadowed.

His skin had been so warm, all the time. His calloused hands had made her stomach warm with a single touch; they'd elicited moans and whimpers and every sound imaginable.

His smile, when it was there, was sweet and like candy; if it was there too much, though, it was too much. The smiles he bestowed on her were like heaven; they meant the world to her, and she'd never forget a single one.

He'd been so good to her; he'd accepted her flaws (most of the time), and had even allowed her to see a few of his own. They'd been so right for each other; they'd been cut to fit together in a sense. Granted there were some gaps, but they had made it work.

And she'd smashed it to bits.

_And how you held me in your arms that September night,  
The first time you ever saw me cry_

He got up, leaving the café without a word, and she couldn't hold in the tears anymore. They flowed down her cheeks, dripping into her coffee as she rested her head in her hands, silent sobs filling her chest.

Her tears instantly reminded her of that September when he'd held her when she'd cried on the anniversary of her father's murder. He'd had no idea why she was crying, but he'd held her in his arms regardless. She couldn't have asked for more.

That was the only time he'd ever seen her cry; she rarely displayed that kind of emotion in front of him. But he'd merely held her, letting her get everything out.

She'd never loved him more.

_Maybe this is wishful thinking  
Probably mindless dreaming  
If we loved again I swear I'd love you right  
_

She knew that if there was ever a chance for them to have what they'd had, for them to be that close again, she wouldn't make the same mistake. There was no way she would ever let him go if he let her hold him again.

She knew the chances of that ever happening again, though, were next to none. However much she wished they could have Paris back, they couldn't.

It was merely a daydream.

_I'd go back in time and change it but I can't  
So if the chain is on your door, I understand  
_

She drove to his house slowly, fighting with herself every step of the way.

He'd left the café, obviously he wanted nothing to do with her.

But he'd come initially. That meant something of importance.

She pulled up, parking across the street and sitting in her car, keeping up her internal debate with herself for almost ten full minutes.

Finally plucking up the courage, she got out of her car and walked to the front door, waiting in front of the door. She'd just raised her hand to knock when the door flew open, revealing the man who had dominated almost every one of her waking thoughts since she'd left.

"Jen."

His voice was low, deep, gravelly. His eyes were dark, deep, unreadable.

Jenny found herself speechless.

_But this is me swallowing my pride,  
Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night  
And I'd go back to December_

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet, and yet the words seemed to boom throughout her mind.

Why the hell was he apologizing?

"That night, I didn't mean what I said," he explained, and her eyes widened, understanding immediately.

A few nights before she'd left, they'd had a fight. An all out blow-up that had left both of them angry and close to tears.

He'd shouted, telling her he was sick of cleaning up her messes and that her neediness was overpowering. He'd bitched about her screw-ups, how he needed someone who knew what they were doing.

She'd screamed at him about his lack of respect for her, about how he never clued her in on anything. She asked if he really loved her at all; it wasn't like he acted like it half the time anyway.

His accusations had stung, to say the least. It was like listening to her father's words when she was in high school all over again, about how she'd never get into a good college, get a good job. But she'd shown him. And then he'd been taken.

But the fight hadn't been the deciding factor in her leaving. Her mind had already been made up before that fight. The only the fight had done is make her heart sting even further.

"If I could, I'd go back to December and change it. I'd change the way I treated you, that fight," he said, his gaze practically burning her skin. "You leaving."

_It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you  
Wishing that I'd realized what I had when you were mine and  
I go back to December, turn around and make it alright and_

"I thought I'd feel better, if you weren't there. It was the exact opposite. I hated not having you there, to touch, to love," he said, and she lowered her gaze momentarily, a shiver running along her spine from the cold. "Jen, I didn't know what I had 'til I lost it. I wish I could go back and make it all right, change what I said."

She raised her gaze, searching his eyes. All that met her was his honest blue irises, praying that she'd understand, that she'd accept his apology.

_I go back to December, turn around and change my own mind and_

"If I could go back, I'd change my own mind," she whispered, shivering when snowflakes began to fall on her neck. "I've done it in my mind, too many times to count."

She was letting everything she had out. If he was willing to forgive to- to apologize, for crying out loud- then, maybe there was a chance. She'd still understand, though, if he closed the door. Maybe he was just apologizing to get it off his chest.

Jethro looked at her, looking so small on his front porch. The snowflakes that lay in her messy, tangled crimson hair had started to melt, but the white that remained emphasized the beautiful red strands. Her scarf was loose around her neck, and she shivered, tugging her coat a tad closer.

It finally permeated his brain that she was probably cold- it was December, after all- and that he should either invite her inside, or say goodbye.

Now it was merely a choice he needed to make- a choice that would most likely affect the rest of his life.

"C'mon in, Jen. It's freezing outside," he said, and he watched as her eyes widened in surprise. She nodded hesitantly, stepping into his house, sighing at the warmth that enveloped her.

She stood in his hallway, unsure of what to do or where to go. She slipped her gloves off, tucking them into her coat pocket, and shifted her feet.

"Take your coat off, stay awhile," Jethro said as he came in behind her, carrying a cup of a steaming coffee in his hands. He offered it to her with a shrug, a familiar gleam in his eyes. "You bought me coffee. Figured I owed you the favor."

She finally smiled fully, taking the coffee after hanging her coat up and slipping off her boots. The cup was warm, and she felt herself starting to thaw out. She sat next to him on the couch, waiting.

"I missed you, Jen." he said, and she knew he meant it. She slid one hand over his, squeezing gently.

"I've missed you too, Jethro." she whispered back, the silence of the house following her words.

And before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, and she was happy for the first time in three years.

_I go back to December all the time_

When Jenny looked back on the month of December now, all she thought about was how he'd taken her back and how she was happy. Yes, there was still the regret she felt at the three years they'd lost, but they'd made up for it.

She looked out at the snowy backyard, where Jethro was making a snowman with their four year old daughter Sarah, whose red curls were covered with her blue hat, and her big blue eyes were lit up with excitement. Jenny smiled, rolling her eyes when Jethro managed to get covered in snow by Sarah. She knew the two loved spending time together, and she'd have been out there with them if it weren't for the baby fast asleep in her arms.

Jacob had been born three weeks ago, on December 1st, and so Jenny was inside with him, instead of out there building a snowman. But he was worth it, and his birth had brushed aside any bad feelings about the month of December.

"Mommy, did you see our snowman?" Sarah asked when they came inside a little while later, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold and excitement.

"I did. It looks great sweetheart," Jenny said, smiling as she helped her daughter out of her coat and snow pants. Jacob was tucked safely in his nursery, and Jenny had been awaiting the return of the snowman-makers. "I have hot chocolate in the kitchen all ready for you."

"With marshmallows?" Sarah asked eagerly, bouncing in a manner similar to her 'Auntie Abby'. Jenny grinned, nodding.

"You bet, sweetheart."

Sarah grinned back, racing into the kitchen, while Jenny turned to Jethro, who was coming inside. He smiled, shaking the excess snow out of his hair as he kicked off his boots.

"You look like a snowman." Jenny teased, touching his cold cheeks.

"That would be Sarah's fault," he returned, and Jenny rolled her eyes. "Jake asleep?"

"I just put him down a few minutes ago," Jenny said with a nod, watching as he finished getting out of his snow-clothes.

"And what were you doing in here?" he asked, slipping one arm around her waist and stroking her hair with the other.

"Thinking back to December," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Which one?" he asked, his fingers trailing down her neck.

"My favorite December," she replied with a smile. He returned it, taking her hand and running his finger along the gold band on her left ring finger.

"That's my favorite December too," he whispered, brushing his lips against hers.

December was their favorite month, finally.


End file.
